


Bunk Inspection

by starcunning



Series: Bite of the Black Wolf [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, FFXIV 1.23a, NSFW, Odette de Dzemael, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, twinsverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcunning/pseuds/starcunning
Summary: It was not just sweat that prickled upon her back as she gathered the last of her things, and as she made to pull her dainty slippers back on, she spied the slab of black cermet. It was magnetized, as she’d discovered when a few of her earrings had stuck to it, and fit squarely in her palm, heavier than it looked. She wrapped her fingers around it, adjusting the lay of it, and with her other hand on the hilt of her sword, stalked from the palaistra.They wouldn’t ration their Legatus's water, surely; she had been to his grand cabin before, and could not imagine they would deny him anything, like a petty tyrant whose kingdom was theAurelia.The centurion stationed at the entrance to Gaius van Baelsar’s suite took her sword from her but allowed her to pass without question, and she mounted the stairs, letting herself into his private chambers.
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar/Warrior of Light
Series: Bite of the Black Wolf [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670509
Kudos: 6





	Bunk Inspection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphicrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphicrose/gifts).



> Originally posted to tumblr 22 March 2019.

Sweat trickled down her back between her shoulderblades, oddly ticklish. Pleasant as the dull ache in her body was after her sword drills, this was less appealing. More objectionable still was the thought of reporting to the communal baths that adjoined the palaistra. Odette had gotten by this long aboard the  _ Aurelia _ without that dubious pleasure—the plumbing in the quarters she shared with her twin was rationed, and certainly not enough for two, but remained preferable to intermingling with the legionnaires of the XIVth.

A few of whom were beginning to trickle into the palaistra then, eyeing her as they circled the piste. Odette did not need the Echo to tell her they were making calculations: but one  _ eikon _ -slayer, bereft both her armor and her sister’s ministrations. The Black Wolf had extended the invitation—being en route to Carteneau anyway—but Odette did not expect them all to keep his truce, not really. Not when the greatest threat to the Garlean Empire existed—at least in part—in her person.

It was not just sweat that prickled upon her back as she gathered the last of her things, and as she made to pull her dainty slippers back on, she spied the slab of black cermet. It was magnetized, as she’d discovered when a few of her earrings had stuck to it, and fit squarely in her palm, heavier than it looked. She wrapped her fingers around it, adjusting the lay of it, and with her other hand on the hilt of her sword, stalked from the palaistra.

They wouldn’t ration their Legatus's water, surely; she had been to his grand cabin before, and could not imagine they would deny him anything, like a petty tyrant whose kingdom was the  _ Aurelia _ . The centurion stationed at the entrance to Gaius van Baelsar’s suite took her sword from her but allowed her to pass without question, and she mounted the stairs, letting herself into his private chambers.

No, she revised—the  _ Aurelia _ was merely his exclave; his kingdom was Ala Mhigo. It showed in the cream and rust pattern of stone inlay and the damask pattern of his duvet—the divan, too, was Ala Mhigan in origin, if she did not miss her guess, although they had—before the Autumn War—been fashionable in Ishgard for a generation or two.

The bathroom was more standard Imperial, with its flat steel walls and black stone underfoot. The shower did not look so different from the one in her own quarters—which, she had been informed, otherwise belonged to a tribunus—although she saw no sign of the gauge that tracked her usage in this particular room. Gaius was absent, she could not have failed to note, but the badger brush hanging beside the sink was damp, so he was not long gone.

It was nothing to her, not least compared to the way her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, and so she ran the water while she undressed, tossing her garments aside carelessly, loosing her tresses from the hasty knot they’d been pulled into.

There were more shower heads in this particular shower, she noted after a moment, turning the nozzles to activate each, and soon stinging hot water cascaded over her from a multitude of angles. It sluiced the sweat from her skin, easing the ache of exertion just enough that it became pleasant. Her unbound hair was plastered to her back and shoulders, brushing even the curve of her ass before she lifted her hands to slick it back and twist it loosely into a damp cable pulled forward over one shoulder. His toiletries were all labeled in Garlean letters, and it was just at the point at which she was growing desperate enough to consider sniffing a few of them that she heard footsteps on the stone.

The foggy glass made of him a dark blur, haloed by the light streaming in from the bank of windows in his bedchamber, but there was no mistaking the Black Wolf.

“Who is in my shower?” he asked. His tone was almost playful, but Odette supposed there was some merit to the question—she and her twin might have looked alike enough through the hazy glass to cast some doubt upon it.

Still, she had nothing to gain by capitulating to him in any straightforward way. “Not you,” she said, tone singsong, “which seems an oversight.”

“And how did you get there?” he wondered. She could hear the hollow sound of leather and rubber hitting stone—his boots, no doubt, with the rest soon to follow.

“You gave us a key,” Odette reminded him.

“So I did,” he said, pushing one of the glass panels aside to step into the shower behind her. “Ah. Odette.”

“Good morning,” she chirped, as cheerily as if they had passed one another  _ en promenade _ in the Pillars. “Did I miss you on the way in?” She did not turn around to face him, but glanced coyly back over her shoulder.

“I was in my study reading the morning’s reports,” Gaius van Baelsar said. He groaned softly, lifting his chin to allow the water to roll back over his scalp, though his hair was close-cropped enough that it could not be weighted down much. His chin was, she noted, freshly shaven. “And you?”

“Sword drill,” she said, “which left me much in need of a bath thereafter, but we are much more modest about such things in Ishgard than is the Fourteenth, I think.”

“Why not your own chambers?” he asked, his gold eyes opening after a moment.

“You would have to remove the limiter from tol Scorpius’s shower,” Odette protested. He gave her only a crooked smile in reply, and she laughed. “And you call  _ us _ savages.” A blustery sigh escaped her—overwrought and theatrical, to be sure, but no more so than the way she turned her face away a moment later. “It was only once I was in here that I recalled I cannot read Garlean letters, alas,” she said.

“I could be convinced to your aid,” van Baelsar said, already reaching past her for a washcloth.

“Far be it from me to prevail upon Lord van Baelsar to wash me,” Odette said, lifting her hands to smooth them over her scalp once more, sweeping a few stray strands of hair from her back. She heard the way his breath hitched at the sight, and could not help but smile to herself.

His fingers pressed against her skin, through the soapy cloth, massaging her back as he went, and she could not help but groan. He, being a soldier and swordsman himself, knew a soldier’s aches, and tended her with terrible exactitude. But she might have expected that—in their brief time as enemies and allies she had gotten an impression of his deliberateness. It was rare that the Black Wolf erred, though—loathe as she was sure he was to admit it—her initial invitation to the  _ Aurelia _ with her sister had seen him overextended.

He had her then just the same, letting the water run over her body, a trail of soap suds draining away. Her flesh had grown pink in the scalding shower, and all she wanted was to lean back into his expert touch. She did, the curve of her skull resting against his shoulder, and she heard the washcloth fall with a wet  _ plop. _ His hand slid over her thigh, and she reached down to twine her fingers with his, forestalling him for just a moment.

Van Baelsar took a few steps forward, and even out of the direct spray of the water the room was humid, hot, stifling even. The brushed steel—bright as a blade’s edge—was cool against her skin as he pressed her against it, chest and cheek. She arched, pressing her back to his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold them together. Odette groaned softly—something that might have been his name, once—and brought his fingers to the damp curls that crowned her pubic mound.

His hand slipped from beneath her own, and she grasped at his forearm, feeling the taut muscles beneath dark skin, the subtle way they shifted as he rolled his wrist, skimming his fingers over her vulva. She arched into his hand, lifting herself onto tiptoe for a moment and settling once more. His erection pressed against her, and she wiggled against him, settling him in the cleft of her ass. He groaned, and Odette could not help but smile at that.

As though to remind her then that she was not in command, van Baelsar brushed a fingertip against the hood of her clit, and her answering whimper felt a thousand times more desperate than the sound which had but a moment before escaped him. Her breath bloomed on steel for just a moment and dissipated, lost in the rest of the steam. Gaius van Baelsar had not come to helm a legion merely by dint of his tactical acumen; she was reminded then of the Black Wolf’s physical acumen as well. His arms were strong around her—strong enough to hold her easily even should her knees give out.

And they would, Odette was sure, least of all if he continued to toy with her so. He could not kiss her then, and she did not really want him to; he buried his face against her neck for a moment and then his teeth found the taper of her ear. They were sensitive, though she bit her lip as though she might hide the fact. In the very same moment, the Legatus plunged his fingers into her, and they went readily, smearing his skin with her honey. When he withdrew them she reached back, expecting him to pull away so that she could take hold of his prick and guide him into her, but her hand met her hip instead, and his fingers brushed her clit. He ground against her—against the curve of her ass, teasing and frotting himself, but the bulk of his attention was on her then.

They had calluses in the same places, which was a strange thing to note but which she could not help but to think just the same. He was not coy in his touch—least of all when her need had been so readily betrayed—and let her grind her clit against the furrow between his two fingers for a moment, tracing a tight spiral around that bud of flesh a moment later. His breath was hot against her, his teeth raking her skin, flushed and damp. Equally arousing was the way she could feel him twitch and throb against her, his hips rolling to grind him against the curve of her ass. She clutched at him, as though he needed any encouragement at all to keep their bodies held together.

Gaius van Baelsar was going to make her come. It was not the first time—no, that had been weeks before, when she had walked a pilgrim’s road and he had laid her out atop his banquet table. She had revisited the memory often since then, but to think of it now only made her more desperate for the touch he readily granted. The arm about her waist slid upward, and he trapped his hand between her body and the steel wall, palming a breast, pinching at her nipple.

She came with a low wail, her empty cunt clenching, his name escaping her through gritted teeth. Her knees, already weak, threatened to give out altogether, but the Black Wolf caught her, cradling her, back to chest, and slowly pulled her upright, steadying her. She could still feel the heat and hardness of him pressed against her flank, promising more. The ache that pervaded her now was no longer one of satiety, and she was grateful for his restraint—if restraint it was; she had not much known it from him.

Neither had Gaius van Baelsar been one much given to gentleness, and yet he tolerated it reasonably well as she leaned against him for stability while he closed the taps one by one. Odette sighed—and there was satisfaction in it, but not enough.

“You never  _ did _ take me as might your namesake,” she pointed out, and relished the look of surprise upon his face.

“Another oversight to correct, no doubt,” said the Legatus.

She wrung her hair out, finding her footing once more so that she could stand under her own power when he withdrew. He didn’t bother to close the door behind himself, and so she was free to look upon him as he went to retrieve a fresh towel for himself, mopping water from his face. There was a bit of grey at his temples, the short bristles of hair like flecks of silver. He turned his back toward her, reaching for another towel, and she watched the muscles of his back beneath dark skin marked here and there by old scars—though most of them were on his front. They had that in common, then—but for one notable exception, square between her shoulders.

He handed her the second towel, and she occupied her thoughts then with the task of drying her hair, gently squeezing water from the pale strands before anything else, and squeezed past him out into the bedroom—the bathroom was too small for two to share without standing in the shower, and the prospect no longer appealed as it had a long few moments before.

Odette stretched, closing her eyes as she stepped into the morning light spilling through that grand bank of windows. With the sun burning crimson through her closed eyelids, it was almost like being home—cool marble underfoot, bright light overhead—though her towels were more plush.

Gaius van Baelsar’s breath caught in his throat, and she remembered then that she was not alone. She glanced back to see the look on his face, and could not help her wicked grin. He wanted her, and that fact was written into every inch of him—not least of all a particular number of them, still stirring against his groin.

“You could bounce a denarius off of that,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Odette laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning to face him.

“You’re with the Temple Knights,” van Baelsar said. Upon her answering nod, he continued, “During bunk inspection, did your commanders never check your bed was made properly? The corners should be tight enough to bounce a coin off of.”

Odette looked at him, and then at his own bed with a dubious smile. “I see  _ you _ maintain strictest bunk discipline yourself,” she teased.

“I am entitled to certain privileges,” he protested.

“Really,” she said, not sounding convinced. “Can I borrow a denarius?”

He laughed, but a moment later produced one from the pocket of his discarded pants.

Odette took it from him, looking at it a moment. She did not recognize the figure whose face was struck on the coin, though unmistakable was the inscribed name BAELSAR around the rim of the portrait. She was very pretty, ageless in the way that all graven portraits were, her hair braided back from her profile. Odette closed her fingers on the coin, pinching it between thumb and the first, and threw it at the corner of the bed—where it sunk into the duvet and there remained.

“I think you failed inspection, my lord,” she grinned, climbing up into the bed and retrieving it. She stretched out with a groan, sinking into the softness of the covers herself.

“Shall we see if you pass?” he asked, holding out an expectant hand.

She pressed the coin into it, and then let her head drop, luxuriating atop the bed. There was a brief sensation, almost like a flick, against her flank, and she let out a soft cry. “I wasn’t ready!” Odette protested, pushing herself up on her elbows and glancing back.

Gaius was grinning like a schoolboy, reaching out to retrieve the coin from where it had landed. “Do you think you passed?”

“I know I passed,” Odette said, rolling her eyes, “I just wanted to see it.”

He laughed, rolling the coin between his fingers. She straightened her legs, and as he let go of the coin, Odette tensed her muscles.

The coin bounced back and hit him squarely in the face, and her cry of surprise almost droned out his. She was scrambling to her knees in an instant, reaching out to catch him and steady him, and then they were both laughing. Odette craned her neck, leaning up to kiss his brow where he’d been struck, and he repaid her by nipping at her vulnerable throat.

She drew away, leaning in once more to repay his temerity. Her lips brushed his pulse, his skin soft. She inhaled and almost drowned in the scent of his cologne, woodsy and earthen and almost sweet, and her breath left her in a groan.

“Come here,” she urged him, pulling him toward the bed.

He climbed on, pulling her into his arms, his lips clashing against hers. The weight of him pressed her back against the bed, her body pressed to his. She wrapped her legs around him, and pulled herself upward a moment, grinding against the base of his shaft. His groan was half-muffled against her lips, but so sweet to hear that she did it again. Gaius rolled his hips, the length of him grinding along her slit, coated in her honey, and then he pulled away.

He took hold of her by the thigh, turning her hips, and she obliged to settle on her side. He slipped in behind her then, his arm curling around her body once more to pull her back against his chest. The heat of the shower had not entirely left his skin, which was damp against her own. Odette lifted a hand to run it from his shoulder up the slope of his neck, her fingers curling about the base of his skull, and his hand slipped lower, fingers brushing her clit before he withdrew to take hold of himself instead. She lifted her leg to oblige him, hooking her foot up over one thigh, and he teased the blunted head of his cock against her a long moment.

Odette remembered then how the Black Wolf had made her beg. “Please,” she said, and her own whimpering surprised her.

“Please what,” he prompted, his voice low and gravely against her ear.

“I want you inside me,” she told him, grinding her hips against him in turn, but he did not let her force the issue. He kept her in suspense a long moment instead and then, at last, pressed into her. His groan commingled with her sigh of relief. Relief—as though this were the end to her need and not the merest beginnings. She could feel him stretch her as he buried himself in her ready cunt, slowly working her onto his length. He let go of the base of his prick to skim his hand up her stomach, fondling her breast. He pinched at her nipple, and she arched, clamping down on him. The breath left him for a moment, rushing over her damp skin.

His thumb found her jaw, her cheek, turning her head back so that he could steal another kiss from the corner of her mouth. She hooked her leg up over his hip, spreading herself around him so that he could move more readily against her. Odette turned her face away again a moment later, and he lifted his other hand from the bed to brush aside her hair so that he could kiss at the back of her neck.

She could feel the tautness of his muscles against her back, his war-honed body now bent to the purposes of pleasure. It made an interesting contrast to the yielding softness of the bed, and she let her eyes close, pillowing her head atop her outstretched arm for a moment. Her nails raked through his short hair, not long enough for her to knot her fingers in, though she gripped at him anyway. Van Baelsar’s hand roamed her body, sliding along her side, down over her leg to brush his fingers along the soft skin of her inner thigh.

The calluses on his palm were almost a comfort—they were familiar to her, their rasp against her skin enlivening her to sensation. He held her leg back against him for a long moment, and when he let go he slowed to stillness. He pulled out of her, though she squeezed at him in a futile bid to still him, and she groaned softly at the feeling of emptiness. He touched her shoulder then.

“Up,” he said, his breath skating over her skin.

With another groan she obliged him, pushing herself up onto her knees. Odette braced herself with her hands, shaking her head so that her hair fell forward over one shoulder. She looked back at him as he pulled himself up, reaching for her. He gave her ass a squeeze, smiling to himself, and then positioned himself behind her, grinding against her for a long moment before pressing into her once more, his hands wrapping around her hips to pull her back onto him.

The head of him raked her frontal wall and she could not help but moan, pressing back against him. She lifted one hand to clutch at his fingers, pushing herself still more upright until she found the perfect angle. His other hand brushed at her hair, tangling in the strands, and he leaned forward to nuzzle against her, breathing in the scent of her skin.

With him bowed over her she leaned forward again, lifting her ass higher and pressing back to take him deeper still, his mounting pace rocking her atop the bed. He bent with her, eager for the feel of her skin on his, bracing his weight with one hand, then both, spreading her knees wider with his own. She could feel his panting breath against her neck, his teeth raking her ear. Odette lifted a hand, skimming it over the flatness of her stomach and the curve of her mound so that she could rub at her clit, jostled against her own fingers with every one of his thrusts.

The cry that tore from her throat surprised her—and him, it seemed, for his rhythm broke, but he buried himself in her, the weight of his body atop hers pinning her chest to the bed. He rolled his hips against her body, his cock pressed deep inside of her, those shallow gyrations and her eager fingers providing her just enough stimulation to tip over the edge.

How much more satisfying it was to feel herself clench when she knew she was squeezing at him, wringing an answering moan from his throat. She clasped at him, milking him, her body betraying her hunger, and the shaky, ragged breath that answered her was sweet to her ears.

“Come inside me,” she begged him. “Make me feel it.”

He did, his cock jerking against her walls, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her. She felt her cunt clench again, stars prickling at the edges of her vision. His breath feathered through her damp hair, his chest heaving against her back.

They could not hold themselves upright for long after that, and Odette collapsed onto her side. Gaius nestled against her back, his cock slipping from her at last, and he groaned softly. She sighed, satisfied, stretching out atop his bed for just a moment.

The coin pressed against her hip, and she dug it out, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. Sunlight winked silver upon its surface—glinting off his family name.

“Your mother?” she speculated.

“My sister,” he said.

“Younger,” she surmised after a moment.

“How did you know?”

Odette lifted her head, glancing back at him. She lofted a brow, and then turned her face forward once more.

“Ah. It takes one to know one.”

Odette laughed. “We’re twins. It hardly makes a difference.”

“Mmm,” he said, nuzzling against her back, his lips tracing the shape of the only scar there. “I suppose that’s why you make all the decisions for the pair of you.”

“Colette is perfectly capable of making her own decisions,” Odette protested. “Right now she’s making the decision to remain in bed.”

“Seems wise,” van Baelsar said, draping an arm heavily over her.

She shook him off a moment later. “She may not think so when she finds out what my morning has entailed,” she laughed. “I suppose I’ll go and tell her.”

_ And take another shower, perhaps. _ It wasn’t as though she was any cleaner than she had begun.


End file.
